Cumming and crying and floating

If you'd been looking in the window,
if you'd been listening at the space beneath the door,
you might easily have thought
we were engaged in some sort of
transgressive,
incestuous
role play.

You'd have imagined him turning up and saying, "OK, pet, today we're going to play Daddy and his baby girl." Etc. And if that's what you're into - role playing - who am I to judge? As long as you know the difference between play - which can be hot - and real - which is utterly inexcusable and I'm going to count on you all to understand that we don't have to discuss this further here.

So yes.
If you'd watched
if you'd listened
if you'd hidden under the bed
and looked towards the mirrored closet doors
you'd have thought it was a game.

But no.

I think I've tried to explain this before, but today I'm getting the urge to try again. Because this was so deep, so strong, so important, and so cleansing.

We weren't playing.
This was real.
We were exercising - being - real parts of ourselves.
Ourselves on our own.
And ourselves with each other.

We were spreading salve on the wounds from our latest crisis, which was very scary but we're very dear to each other and we'll be ok. Still, we needed to be close in a way that laid our vulnerabilities out there on the table. Or the bed, as the case may be. For these couple of hours, there was no need to be strong and logical and competent. Especially not for me. I needed to be taken care of. And he needed to take care of me. To hold me.To let me know how precious I am to him. How special and precious. How much he needed to be with me.

I needed to cry.
I needed to cry in his arms while he held me.
And he gave me that, too.
Through an orgasm.

I don't usually get to cum when he visits. Sometimes he'll get me all aroused but won't let me cum. And I can't cum from fucking - not with him, not with anyone, it's happened only a handful of times in my whole life. But he does know how to get me to cum, and he did that today, holding me in his left arm while he touched my clitoris in that special sweet and gentle way. Tenderly. He touched me so tenderly. And I asked him and he said yes, Baby, it's all right, and I came in this arms and I cried, because I always cry when I cum but also I needed to cry, to cry in his arms while he held me, and I did, and he knew why I was crying, and his arms told me it was ok, that I was his, I'd never stop being his, he didn't have to say it, the only way his mouth said it was with his kisses, which suddenly weren't Daddy and baby girl kisses, suddenly they were passionate almost desperate kisses, between all the parts of him and all the parts of me and then he slid his cock inside me and now I'm remembering how sweet it was and I'm starting to drift away and go back to floating and I can't write when I'm like that so I'll stop now and just stay here on the couch, leaning back against the furniture arm instead of his arm while Marko snores on my legs and floating ...

About love and pain and cats

It's about cats.

It's not about cats.

It's called How to Pet a Kitty.
Until it could be called How to Love a Sadist.
When it's almost at the end.
When it talks about petting your kitty's belly.
And you know what can happen
when you try to pet a kitty's belly.
Even when the kitty offers her belly.

And that's when suddenly it's not just about cats:

Biting and clawing is a form of "love mauling."

The more pain they deal out,
the more they are trying to tell you
they love you.

Endure the pain
and do not stop petting your kitty.

Masturbation mania (17) - Harmonia hits a high G

 

Harmonia excited the cats no more than did my other sex toys. Marko preferred the view out the window, while Ketzel found more pleasure in washing her toes. She's always been a fastidious little thing.

I, however, found plenty of pleasure while playing with Harmonia, which I received free from EdenFantasys in exchanged for writing an honest (and uncensored) review. Yesterday's post was a relatively factual introduction. Today you get to read my reactions in the emails I sent to the sadist while I was conducting my lab test. When you're reviewing vibrators, you can't submit the kind of dispassionate report you might expect from Consumers Union about refrigerators.

So this is what my Master read, in installments, as Harmonia and I set out to entertain my G-spot.

It was a Sunday morning in November.

Nightgown off, Daddy.

I'm sitting up in bed, naked, my nice normal tits moving slightly as I type and as my breath flows in and out. My nipples and areolae have contracted with the chill of the room. I see the moon-like glow from the light of the window.

I'm going to start with one of my clitoral vibes, as I think this new one is too strong for warm-up. My clitoral vibe is pink, too. They coordinate nicely. Visual pleasure... all the sense are important.

I love you, Daddy.

~~~~~

 I apply a drop of lube to the tip of the clitoral vibe (LAYAspot), and gently rub it against my clit. Immediately, my arousal rises. Oh Daddy, it's so good to feel the familiar sensations, the practiced simulation that comes from knowing my own body! But there's also this extra sensation, this extra excitement of being touched by a foreign object.

I am being used.

For your pleasure.

I am a sacrifice to your pleasure, 

laid out on the altar of my bed, 

giving myself to you.

Time to turn on the small device before proceeding to the new one.
Before impaling myself with the new one.

~~~~~

My body undulates with pleasure.

Your little girl's body, writhing beneath the covers.
Writhing for her Daddy.

Your eyes see across the miles and beneath the layers of comforter, fleece, and sheet. You know her pleasure is all for you.

Time to insert the new device.

 ~~~~~

It popped right in, Daddy! I'm glad I warmed my pussy up first. Plus I think they know how to design devices that go in easily, no matter how big. They made the black one I like so much.

Once it is stuffed inside me, the noise doesn't seem so bad.

~~~~~

I pulled it out and held the bulbous end to my clit. The vibrations run up and down the whole shaft. I shoved it back in and bent it so the base buzzed against my clit while the rest was still inside me.

It's inside me as I write, Daddy.

I'm experimenting with angles and depths, trying to learn about my G-spot. Sometimes I think I hit it. I think of you watching the expressions on my face.

~~~~~

yes

there

do you here me cry out, Daddy?

~~~~~

left leg flat on bed

right foot on bed
right knee bent up
typing with 1 finger
device buzzing against G-spot

i feel it in deep in my womb
and all the way up in my diaphragm
an almost painful pleasure

i grunt

~~~~~

I came, Daddy.

Loudly.
For you.
I came for you
and now I feel it again, Daddy.
From our trip.
I feel us lying in bed,
peaceful and happy,
your nakedness next to mine,
warm and happy and peaceful and close.

That's the name of this toy company, Daddy.
Close2you.

I feel close to you.

I wish I had time to linger in bed longer.
Savoring it.
Savoring how close I feel to you.

To back up... the Harmonia was inside me, and I put both legs back down flat on the bed, bending the flexible silicone so the base was vibrating against my clit while the shaft buzzed through me and the tip was still buried up against my G-spot. G for groans. I wasn't even pushing it in and out, Daddy, just letting it vibrate, giving myself to the vibrations, giving myself to you and it was glorious, Daddy, but almost too intense, so I pulled it out and held the bulb against my clit and moved it over it gently - or maybe it wasn't so gently, Daddy, we know how arousal changes my perception of pain - and the pleasure built and built and you were watching me and it was all for you, Daddy, though I can't remember exactly what I was thinking and then the noises, Daddy... they weren't high and whimpering, they came from deep within me, they were deep and guttural and I came hard, Daddy, even with all the meds I'm on because of the time of year, and not as much heavy contractions because of that and age but it was a full orgasm nevertheless Daddy and it was for you Daddy and I only wish I had much more time to lie here savoring it.

Still.
I felt you afterwards, Daddy.
Lying there with me.
So close to me.
I was so close to you.
I AM so close to you, Daddy.
Right now.
Your own angel girl.

Can you feel me...?

Whew!

Reading that over now, as I transfer it from the e-mails, makes me want to give it another try. Right now. But, of course, I can't. The sadist has decreed that I may not cum this weekend. Since he's out of town. Since I didn't get to serve him. 

Except that I did serve him. 

Not with my mouth. 

Not with my hand. 

Not with my pussy.

With my words.

With my brain, as he likes to say.

With the e-mails I sent him throughout the day,

entertaining him,

distracting him,

informing him,

and

I am sure

making his cock wiggle in the prison of his pants.

I always find a way to serve.

Now if only pussy would stop twitching and pulsing and begging me to shove that lovely, flexible, hot pink Harmonia deep inside her!

Another time, pussy.

I promise.

Another time.

Masturbation mania (16) - Pussy sings with Harmonia from Close2You

Overdue.

Very long overdue.

As you can tell from the dry autumn leaves in the photo.

One of the victims of my diminished urge to write has been the good folks at EdenFantasys, online purveyor of sex toys. I had a simple deal with them. They sent me a toy a month and in exchange I posted an honest review. With links and a picture. In fact, they would get two posts, including my in-action report as sent to the sadist and designed to be titillating. Plus at least one of the photos would include a cat or two - despite their clear lack of interest in my toys. Silicone doesn't do much for my furry beasts. Now if there were some feathers on the end...

Back to work.

The sadist is away this weekend.

No visit today.

No serving.

And no orgasm!

Maybe he figures if I'm not giving him one, I shouldn't be allowed to give myself one. Which is hard since I'm expected to be especially diligent with my Kegel exercises this weekend, and plan on making her squeeze hard and repeatedly around the elegantly tapered Sinfonia from Close2You. I haven't been writing about my exercise regimen - not writing much about anything for months and months. The short version is that my Master wants my aging pelvic muscles to be able to firmly grasp and pulse around his demanding cock. So I've been working out, with an exercise program designed as if I were doing weight-lifting at a gym. A GYN Gym. It's already showing results.

And yes, pussy is pulsing in time with the radio as I write.

But back to the issue at hand.

The item that enjoyed the warmth of my cunt.

Harmonia, a lovely G-spot vibrator made by Close2You, the same folks who made the Sinfonia I like so much.

Since I can't give it another run today, due to the masturbation ban [insert pout here], I'm relying on the messages I sent my Master when I first tested Harmonia last November. I used her a number of times since then, especially when I was in the mood to have something filling me. Though I must admit that my favorite vibrators continue to be my little lavender Meany from Fun Factory, preceded and followed by the same company's clitoral vibe LAYAspot. Until recently, that is, when I finally talked someone from LELO into giving me my long-standing lust object, Siri. Which I love love love.

But more on Siri another time.

For now, here's an introduction to Harmonia, with most of my buzz-by-buzz report to follow tomorrow.

Harmonia is, like her sisters from Close2You, beautifully packaged, and last October the company won an award for Best Product Design at the international EROFAME Trade Convention in Hanover. Good visual design and packaging shouldn't make that much of a difference, but I find that it does. It sets a mood.

This is for me.

To do something nice for myself.

This is for my pleasure.

And I love that it comes with a storage bag. Velvet on the outside and smooth on the inside. The box sets  the mood, but the bag is truly practical. So I start off with the attitude that this is a company what knows what I need. That knows what will make me feel good.

The box is foreplay.

The bag is aftercare.

Here is how I began my report to the sadist as I ran my first test on Harmonia.

The new toy.
It's big, Daddy.
Very flexible.
A bright rose pink.

It's silicone, my material of choice. I like the texture, Sir, and it's very safe. I can use it without a condom. Happy vibrator, Daddy! Nothing keeps its velvety surface from feeling my own soft, moist velvet.

It's very flexible. Bends to about halfway down. It's got this bulbous tip meant for the G-spot, so I suppose it's so flexible to assist in getting it to hit just the right spot.

It's VERY noisy, Daddy! Even at the first level of vibrations. I've become more used to those buzzes over time, but I'll see if it's too distracting.

It's called Harmonia.
Another one from the company with the music theme.

I will feel your eyes on me.
Listen for my moans.

To this I should add the reminder that silicone toys should be used with water-based lubricants only, and that they do tend to attract lint, so should be washed both before and after use. For controls, there are two buttons, which give access to a number of speeds as well as to various patterns.

Somewhere I have the little booklet which illustrates the various options - another very thoughtful touch!

One reason I chose Harmonia was because it's a G-spot vibrator. The philosopher was the one who taught me to find my G-spot. Over the phone, yet! He always did get good reviews for his teaching... Anyway, I knew I had one, I knew I responded to it, but no vibrator had ever gotten it to explode for me. I hoped Harmonia could succeed where the others had failed.

Come back later and find out how she did.

Girls talk - about sex! (What else?)

Lunch with the girls today.
Meaning my friends from work.
Friends!
I've almost never had friends at work.
Real friends.
Friends I can go out to lunch with.
Open up to.
Be myself with.

Well, almost myself...
I've told them in normal terms about my relationship.
But not about the BDSM part of it.

But I did mention today that I review vibrators.

(And I really do have to get back to reviewing. If for no other reason than I owe a review for the last toy I got. A toy I liked. But between work and family stuff and my writer's block... well, it just hasn't happened. Which is stupid. Because all I have to do is transcribe my comments to my Master as I tested it. Soon...)

Anyway.
I have these friends.
Young women.
One is 22, one is 30, and the third... maybe mid-twenties?

Three of us started at the same time, and then we welcomed in the fourth when she arrived a few months later. We had wondered if she'd fit in, because the three of us tended to let it hang out. Who knows why?

The newest one has a boyfriend. I've got my Master. The 30-year old is married but getting almost no sex since her pregnancy maybe 4 years ago. The 22-year old really wants to get laid. She's striking and sharp, very smart and very wry. Most people bore her, she says. A problem.

But not as bad as the married one's problem.
She's never had an orgasm.
Or doesn't think she has.
In chorus, the 22-year old and I sang out "You'd know it if you had one."

So we talked to her a little about vibrators.
I think we should have a little party and show her ours.
Tell her about the options.
Too bad there isn't a good store in the area where we could take her.
A real store, not on line.
One of those stores started by women.
Someplace like Good Vibrations or Babeland.

I did now find via Google something in DC, though I'm not sure of the atmosphere. If only we could get her to go exploring with us one day! Of course, she has a family to get home to. And I'm booked on Saturdays.

Anyway, it feels good having friends to talk with so openly. Relatively openly. At least to be open about being so sexual. It's a relief.

But tell them I'm a slave?
That my Daddy whips me with his belt?

Not a chance.

Speaking of the beast, I had to go back up north last weekend to see my mom again, who was back in the hospital with pneumonia. Which is not uncommon with a stroke. The same hospital in which Maurice Sendak died. (I was very sad about that - Maurice Sendak dying. I loved Where the Wild Things Are, which I didn't read until I was in college. To be able to be angry, to run away, to be among creatures who accept you and respect you. And then to be able to return home. To be welcomed home and loved. Not judged. It's hard, these days. With my mother so ill. Knowing that I disappointed her, and that she could not accept me for who and what I was. I struggle with a lot of feelings these days.)

Anyway, I hated being away from my Daddy, and hated not being there for him. But it meant he could visit his masochist slave, where the beast is let loose and, hopefully, some of the stress of wanting to torture me is relieved. It turns out that he took Saturday regular visits from his slave in order to give me that day, once I went back to work. I had just started wondering if that was the case when he told me. I felt bad. I knew how awful I'd feel if my visits were cut back so he could be with someone else instead. So I was glad that his slave would benefit from my absence, and hoped that my Daddy's hunger would be eased. Which it was. At least to some extent. We'll see. This Saturday we'll see.

Unless my mother dies.
I don't really think she's into going on.
I don't know.
Some of her being uncooperative is from the increasing dementia.
Dementia mainly from the stroke now.
But some... I'm not sure.
Sometimes I think she doesn't think it's worth it like this.

When your parents are in their 90s, you're always expecting The Call. But now, it's even more. Which will be hard. But a blessing, too, perhaps. Very hard on my dad, but also a relief. He's exhausted. And then... it will be a pity. Our relationship has been getting a lot better lately, from my having visits with him alone. Ah well.

I guess that, after all, there were other things to talk about.
Other than sex.
At least here.

Where I can ramble on.

Thanks for just sitting and listening.
Because that's another thing friends do.
Sit.
And listen.
Without judgment.

And now I think I'll go cuddle the cats.
Because they don't judge me either.

Surrender

In the end, it was nothing more than hubris.
Why should I surpass Odysseus
in managing to flee my fate?

I bragged.
Sure, I'm sluggish.
Yes, I'm eating all the wrong things
and plenty thereof.
Me and the squirrels outside my window.
Fattening ourselves up for winter survival.
But no depression.
Not me.
Not this year.

Ha!

Like the sadist himself, SAD is a predator, watching his prey, gauging vulnerability, watching for the little drops of blood left like breadcrumbs by the unseeing victim, complacent in her seeming safety from the worst of his tortures. He plays with her, swatting her across the floor, leaving little scratches while holding back from the last hard blow to the head before sinking his teeth into her jugular.

He knows just the right spot.
He pierces it year after year,
sucking out her soul,
deadening her eyes.

He knows she'll rise again in Spring.
But the wounds never wholly heal.
And unlike the cats
who mourn the loss of each mouse killed,
he knows he'll have his favorite prey
to play with once again come Fall.

Year

after year

after year.

The Solstice can't come soon enough.

Strangled

I've lost my voice.
Oh, not physically.
Mentally.

I'm being strangled by SAD.

Strangled... the sadist had his hand very tight around my neck last Tuesday. After I had made my confession. After he had whipped me with his belt as I was down on my hands and knees on the futon, every part of me draped in my nun's habit.

Every part of me but my reddening butt, now adorned with the stripes of pain and penance left by his belt.

It was after that.
As I knelt before him to serve his pleasure.

After I had stripped off the pieces of the habit.
Slowly stripped off the black and the white and the yards of black.
Stripping before his eyes.
Letting the long dress drop to my feet.
Revealing my nakedness beneath.

I was naked in so many ways.

But I digress.
I'd much rather be strangled by his large, firm hand.
It somehow makes me feel safe as it circles my throat.
As I hear myself gasp for air.
Or gurgle.
This time I was gurgling.

Being strangled by SAD does not make me feel safe.
I am its prisoner.
And not in a good way.
There is no affection in its stranglehold.
And I return none.

You might say there is intimacy, as we live close together for a few months each year. We are so close that when SAD moves in I see everything through its eyes. And even when it isn't here, I feel it looming. Breathing on my neck. When it finally leaves, its soft seductive voice breathes into my ear: "I'll be back." And I know it will.

Yes, its voice is seductive.
It draws me down into sleep.
Sleep from which I never quite awaken.
Sleep.
Stupor.
A mind that is dulled by the shortened days.
Even today, when the sun was dancing.
Laughing.
Beckoning.
Come! it smiled.
Come out and play with me.
But I lay on the couch as if drugged.
I lay there with Ketzel on my belly.
And I slept like a cat.

Perhaps today that was from hormones.
Could be.
They play games with me,
coming and going so fast that I sense no cycle.
But whatever it was,
I lost another day.

Still, I should be grateful. The SAD held off, and didn't fully move in until now. Except for the sabotage of grey skies, it should start moving out by the end of the month. At first it will move out slowly. A fork one day, then a pile of towels, eventually a box of books. But it will move out. Until suddenly, in March or April, I'll be unbearably bouncy.

My manic season is short.
But I love it.
My compensation prize.

For now, though, I'm dulled and sleepy, soft and vulnerable, struggling to get through the day, and excited only by thoughts of the sadist and his kisses and the leather belt which now hangs in the closet with the belts that I wear.

I think of the leather belt.
I feel its tail gently whipping my pussy.
I feel its weight landing hard and sharp on my ass.

And I ponder the teasing morsels the sadist is feeding me about a plan which seems to be drawing nearer to being realized.

A plan?
What plan, you wonder.

Ha!
The sadist isn't the only one who can tease, you know.

Home again, home again, jiggedy jog

Reporting in, having survived far too many hours in Thanksgiving traffic, 4 nights with my parents, and a cold, dry turkey that my father's normally sensible cousin insisted on bringing up to Connecticut from Brooklyn.

My stuffing and gravy were great.

I suspect Ketzel peed somewhere she shouldn't have while I was gone, but I'm not sure where and am too tired to sniff out the exact spot. More important is that they gave me a warm and loving welcome, acting as if they hadn't eaten in a week, which is their way of saying they missed me and needed reassurance of my love.

Having not seen the sadist on our usual Tuesday earlier in the week, I will be especially thankful to be reunited with him this coming Tuesday. Don't know how much he'll allow me to tell you about what he has planned, but the preparations have been intense. I do try to remind him - every single time - that a trip to see my parents is not a happy thing, and that any added pressing of sensitive buttons is bound to unleash a heavy emotional reaction. Luckily, after triggering in me a spell of depression, he offered something akin to an apology - at least for him - and reassured me that the ritual he has planned does not in fact contain any risk of my being traded in for a new model. Great relief and outpouring of gratitude and affection.

Hot Jazz Saturday Night (WAMU-FM) is now playing I Can't Give You Anything but Love. For a sadist, of course, that won't do. He requires service. Obedience. Unquestioning submission.

Luckily, he enjoys my struggles.
And does treasure me.
So I'm safe.
For now.

But tired.
So enough for tonight.
Hope you all had a happy Thanksgiving - or at least a good weekend.

Heading north

Packing.
Making cranberry orange relish.
Spending a little quality time with the cats.
Downloading more tunes he introduced me to.

I have my instructions.
An assignment.
Things to think about.
A musical touchstone.
A theme.
Messages to send.
When and how to send them.

A theme.
A focus.

Service.

And a rich and scary ritual when I return.
When we reunite.
On the Tuesday.
In a week.

Reunion.
Punishment.
Recommitment.

And in between?
630 miles round trip.
And no cats.

What's a house without cats?!

Back home Saturday night.

Happy Thanksgiving, you guys.

Even if this is not your holiday,
it's good to take time to be thankful.

Me?
I am very thankful indeed.

Masturbation mania (15) - Kiki purrs and o.g. cums

I love being efficient.
I'm not efficient very often, but when I am I'm very pleased with myself.

As you know, the sadist owns my orgasms.
Among other things.
I may only masturbate, not to mention cum, with his permission.
And then he expects a report.
Written.
With details.
Just saying:
I rubbed,
I came,
I cried,
I slept
isn't enough.

So when I test new sex toys, I end up with an account of the experience written either in the heat of the experience or else right after. I arouse the insatiable fiend and make notes for my review at the same time. Clever, no?

Here, then, are excerpts from my reports to the sadist on the two tests I ran on Kiki from PicoBong, LELO's new "youth-oriented", attractively priced line of sex toys. (As an example of the pricing, EdenFantasys sells Kiki for $39.95, whereas they sell LELO's rechargeable Siri for $98.99. Both have multiple vibration patterns on top of a few levels of straight buzz. Both are silicone. Part of Siri's extra cost is likely from being rechargeable, and I suspect it is stronger, given that Kiki runs on a single AAA battery. Plus, as you can see from the above picture, Kiki is really small. Get a little satin pouch for it (Siri already comes with one), and you could easily keep it tucked in your bag for emergencies.

A couple of functional notes before the sexy stuff. I previously learned that even clitoral vibrators benefit from a touch of lube. But given my desperate arousal and fuzzy post-service mental state when I embarked on my first trial run, I forgot that I wouldn't be inserting Kiki and doused her with too much AstroGlide. I think that reduced her effectiveness. The second time I was more careful, and Kiki brought me to an orgasm on her own.

The controls are seemingly simple and obvious, but I found that they don't lie quite where my finger wants them to be. There are just 2 buttons, which you can see in the picture above and can feel with your finger. However, they are in line with the word PicoBong, and I sometimes had to run my finger down the indented design to the right spot and then push a bit hard. you also have to read the instructions carefully and then count your way through the vibration levels so you know when to press and hold the (+) button in order to shift to the different patterns. The first time, I never did make it into the patterns. I suspect that with use I'll get better at it, but for a start it was a bit of nuisance, especially the time I removed the vibrator from my clit to check the placement of my finger.

Still, overall, I'm very fond of the little thing. Gentle, cute, and quiet are good for me. And she certainly works beautifully as an appetizer.

Here, then, are my lab reports, as written for the sadist.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

October 18

I feel unbelievably soft right now, Daddy. So now I'm going to masturbate... with the softness... feeling you still here on the bed... next to me... stroking me... watching me... feeling me tremble next to you... watching my calves stiffen with the arousal... my hair spread out on the pillow...

[...]

And I did masturbate, Daddy. Not long after you left. So that you would still be with me.

You are with me even now, Daddy.
I feel so close to you.

[ . . . ]

I just had to haul myself back from soft memories.

So yes, I masturbated.
Gently.

I pulled back the covers and lay down all soft and naked on the blue sheet and lubed up my cute little new pink toy. It's the sweetest little thing (named Kiki), but I'll have to give it another trial at least before writing the review as I forgot the trick to getting it to switch to the different patterns. You have to bring it all the way up to the top vibration level and then hold the + button down for 2 seconds. The problem was I didn't get it all the way up to the top level, and didn't realize I hadn't.

It's very quiet, Daddy, and very gentle, which is just what I wanted. It doesn't make my poor little clitoris go numb, which some vibrators do. And when that happens, using your fingers after just doesn't work. But this one was gentle, and the thought of how it looks made me feel happy, and thoughts of you made me happy. And then I switched back to my fingers, rubbing my clit which was now all wet from pussy juices and from lube... and I thought of you spanking me and then I came. Not a huge orgasm, Daddy, but a nice orgasm. Just right for today. And then I took a gentle nap.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

October 28

Awake after a short post-orgasmic nap.
I set the timer, Daddy, to be sure I didn't sleep too long.

Thank you so much for letting me masturbate, Daddy! Your poor pussy was so aroused [from an event we had been discussing] that I came very fast, even though my new little toy isn't very strong. But I like it, Daddy. I love the velvety texture, and how the tip is flat so it presses perfectly on your little girl's clit. Plus it's so quiet! Which is at least partly connected to not being very strong. But it did the job, Daddy, because I was already so aroused, so I had a first little orgasm very fast, even before I made it to the fancy vibration patterns.

I did think about being your toy, Daddy. Which made me even more aroused. And this time I didn't put too much lube on my little pink toy, so the friction was just right. It's so small and quiet I could easily carry it in a little purse, Daddy, in case of emergency...

So I had one little orgasm, Daddy, but didn't cry and wasn't ready to stop. So I switched to the big black vibrator that feels so good inside [the Sinfonia]. I lubed that up and slipped it in and used it to do Kegel exercises around. And then I fucked myself with it while it was buzzing away, knowing that I'm your pussy and I was created to be used, to be fucked, and this vibrator is perfect for fucking myself, Daddy, being shaped sort of like a curved ice cream cone, except velvety smooth and elegantly black. So I slid it in and out of me, and then took it out and pressed the buzzing tip against my clit and came again. Though again, Daddy, not a giant body shaking orgasm. And no crying.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

And so it was.

So when I'm feeling particularly sweet and soft and pink, I just might reach for Kiki. because there's something about her, some indefinable personality, that makes me want to say "Come, Kiki. Come kiss my clit."

Masturbation mania (14) - LELO's young, cute bargain line

 "Look, Daddy! Isn't it cute?"

Naked, used, I held out the hand that cradled the small, hot pink vibrator.
He eyed it dubiously.

"Very cute, my pet."

He paused.

"But aren't you afraid it might get lost?"

"Oh no, Daddy!
It doesn't go inside.
It's for my clitoris!
It's got this nice flat top that nestles up against it.
And feel it, Daddy!"

For one of the very few times in our relationship, the sadist did what I said, extending his hand to stroke the soft pink velvety silicone of my sweet new toy.

"You're right!"
Why did he sound surprised?
"Very soft."

"So may I masturbate, Daddy?
May I try it out?
For your pleasure, of course.
I'll think of you
and cum for you

and send you a full report."

"Yes, mt pet.
You may masturbate."

And with that, he left.

As I've said a few times before, I have this thing for LELO sex toys. The design, the packaging, the fact that they're made in Sweden... I have this thing for them, but I don't have a single one.  They're expensive. Too expensive of course for me to buy, and too expensive for EdenFantasys, generous as they've been, to send me for review.

So I continue my unrequited lust.

Recently, however, LELO came out with a new line of toys, called PicoBong. Don't ask me why "PicoBong." Who am I to try to penetrate the minds of marketers? The point is, they are trying to appeal to "a younger clientele at a more affordable price point." Personally, I think they're trying a bit too hard on the dedicated website, whose atmosphere is quite different from the elegance of the LELO site. But the idea is a good one. Not everyone can shell out a hundred bucks for a silicone orgasm inducer, as much as some of us may want to.

Hence, PicoBong.
Small devices.
No fancy packaging.
No recharging.

On the other hand, you do get my main requirements of safe, velvety silicone, stunningly quiet operation, thoughtful design, and - let's not forget - an orgasm. At least for me.

My chosen introduction to this cheaper, snappier incarnation of LELO was the Kiki C-Vibe. Since clitoral vibration is my best route to an orgasm, I'm always up for exploring new clit vibes. And it did look awfully cute. Plus I knew right off that the flat tip was a good design choice.

Ketzel thought it was cute, too.

 Kiki is the first toy she wanted to play with.
She batted it around like a toy mouse.
So we both enjoyed it!

There was one thing about Kiki I knew right off that I'd enjoy. When she arrived (and how could such a cutie not be a "she", no matter what the marketers named her), I immediately stuck in a battery to be sure she worked. *A* battery. One little battery. One very little battery. One little triple A battery. How much noise can a single AAA battery make?

Not much.
Not much at all.
I finally had a truly quiet vibrator.

Of course, as those of you with quick minds have already figured out, how much power can one AAA battery produce?

Not all that much here, either.
Kiki is a very gentle vibrator.
Which is fine for my delicate clit.
But not necessarily for everyone's.

Still, I did cum.

How much was due to still feeling the sadist's nakedness next to mine? And to his scent and his power lingering in the air of my bedroom and the blue cotton of my sheets? And to the time I had spent serving his needs while my own arousal served only to fire his?

Who can say... but it was the second time I tested it, which wasn't right after a visit, that Kiki quickly made me cum on her own.

Summary: this 62-year old sadist's pet will be happy to adopt youth-oriented PicoBong Kiki as a pet of her own. And come back Hallowe'en night for the lab reports I made to the fiend to find out if she'd be a good addition to your own menagerie.

If it isn't one thing...

I had a cold.
And was supposed to be out of town anyway.
So I didn't get to see the fiend on Tuesday.
And he didn't get to see if his bite left a scar on my butt.

And then he said he could come by Saturday afternoon.
Meaning yesterday.
And I was so happy.
Cause I missed him

And I still miss him.
Because as I was giving Marko breakfast...
I realized I was sick.
Again.
Damn.
And he's not one of those guys who never catches things.
So an hour or two before he was due to arrive, I had to cancel.

The good news was that I could watch the Michigan-Michigan State game.
The bad news was that we lost.
"We" being Michigan.
I don't know why I thought it would be different this time.

Plus...
and this is both good news and bad news -
I evicted my current renter.
Well, told him he had to move out.
I have to give him a month unfortunately.
Wish it could be right away.

It's a bunch of things. Officially, it's because I had advertised for a non-smoker and a few days after he got here I knew for sure that he smoked. Not in the house - he wouldn't dare - he KNOWS I didn't want a smoker so he was hiding it. But the smell comes in with him, sometimes strong enough that it sets me coughing. And of course it clings to his clothes, so transfers to other things.

Now aside from not wanting a smoker living here, there's the fact that he lied by implication in answering an ad that specified non-smoker and not revealing that he was one. But there's also his general mental and emotional state, and the fact that he lives a vampire's schedule. I need someone here with energy. And happy vibes. Someone with a regular life, who gets up in the morning and goes to work and goes to sleep at night and provides an atmosphere that will stimulate me, especially during the dark months. This guy seemed like good company at the beginning - and he was VERY cooperative about clearing out on Tuesdays so I had full use of the dungeon when the sadist came to visit - but I could feel that he was disintegrating. And that it was having a bad effect on me.

So - and here's where I'm very proud of myself, which somewhat makes up for renting to someone with clear red flags which I managed to ignore - rather than trying to stick it out for a year, or trying to make him miserable enough that he would want to leave, I spoke up and told him it wasn't working out and -

And at that point he made an angry comment and stalked off downstairs.

I mean really.
He's the one who misrepresented himself on a number of points.
And obscured other things.
And implied that he was a non-smoker when he wasn't.

(Note: I'm not making a value judgment about smokers here, folks, so those readers who do smoke should please not feel defensive. But I have asthma and a sensitive nose and it's my house and I have a ridiculously hard time with even third-hand smoke. )

So I gave him a month and he's trying to find a new place, but he'll be out whether or not he does. He's got a mother around here he could crash with if necessary. From things he said, I think she doesn't think much of his dependability, either.

The sad thing is that he's been good for the cats. They've calmed down a lot since he moved in. And Marko adores him. Go figure.

As for the next housemate - no decisions until I've thought about it for at least a day. Even if it means I lose a prospect. I need time for those doubts in the pit of my stomach to worm their way up to my foolish brain.

Masturbation mania (13) - Yielding to the elegant Sinfonia

Here, in part 2 of my review of Close2You's Sinfonia g-spot vibrator, is a purely subjective evocation of a delicious masturbation session as reported to the sadist. You can read Part 1 of my review here, which, while not totally objective, at least includes some solid details. And don't forget that if you check out the Sinfonia (or any other sex toy) on EdenFantasys' website, they have a very handy comparison tool to help you choose between different items. I use it myself when choosing which of several options I want to review next.

Before proceeding, I should note that I had to work very hard to get the above shot. The cats have been showing very little interest in my goodies, but at least Ketzel, despite her boredom, was willing to return to the box again and again when I called her. She did, however, show a distinct preference for having the top of the box closed.

And now, here is what happened the second time I gave myself to the elegant and alluring Sinfonia, as related to my Master in a series of in-flight messages....
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I'm horribly aroused, Daddy, so I'm going to masturbate now.

I've laid out my chosen toys. I seem to have a standard array now, Daddy. The pink clitoris vibrator (what's it called? Oh yes, the LAYAspot). My beloved little lavender Meany - short and stubby and sweet and wonderful. And then whatever new thing I have.

In this case, that classy black and grey Sinfonia.

Last time I was so desperate I couldn't pay attention to the different vibration patterns. I wonder what will happen this time...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Oh, Daddy...

I started with the pink one, holding it against my clit where it's buzzing gently at the very lowest setting... and my pelvis is tipping up while my pussy searches for your cock.

I love when I feel your cock just grazing my clit and labia, Daddy.
I hunger for your cock, Daddy.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I turned the setting up, Daddy, and now there's the feeling of being whipped, with a single thin lash landing straight across my butt hole.

Not a fantasy, Daddy.
Purely a sensation.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I lubed it up and slid it in and ohhh.... it felt so incredibly good, my Master. And for a while I didn't turn it on, just did Kegel exercises around it. And then I turned it on, and it started buzzing inside me, and I kept saying out loud Oh God Oh God Oh God... because of how wonderfully good it feels... and then I found myself wondering how I would respond to the cane if I had the Sinfonia buzzing away inside me and then I thought uh-oh I shouldn't tell you that but I had the thought so I couldn't not tell you.

And now I think I won't write again until after I cum.

Except that I feel you watching me, my Master, and had that feeling of objectification again... and of someone standing over me... watching me masturbate...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ohhh, Daddy...

Thank you, my Master.

I just wish there had been more time... it felt so wonderful... and my reactions were so powerful... if you had been watching you would have received the gift of a symphony of moans and whimpers and grunts and then variations on the theme of breaths... and I had that same response as last time, Daddy, of feeling very objectified. Of things being done to me that I had no hand in... An image came of me bound to the bed with the beautiful black curve of a vibrator shoved up inside me and kept in place by surgical tape... a torture of pleasure while you watched and listened and took pictures and video clips and took notes on which patterns elicited what response...

I didn't have time to stop and write down which patterns had what effect, Daddy, but what I can say is that the effects were powerful. And then it was getting late so first I just fucked myself with it for a while on a plain vibration, and then I held the tip to my little butt hole... I think... I had trouble finding it and getting the tip in so I just held it kind of over where I thought it was. Maybe I should give up on the idea of a vibrating butt plug. I'm awfully small and tight.

Finally, I switched to the plush lavender Meany - inside me a little and also rubbed over my clitoris because I was aiming to cum. And I discovered by accident that I had forgotten that the Meany has different patterns, too! But because it's so plushy I don't think they are as powerful. That was a nice reminder, though. Mainly, I let it buzz away and rubbed it gently against my clit and had a lovely orgasm inside me... with the real feel of going up and over the waterfall. And then I cried a little and kept the Meany going and had a couple more small orgasms (I hope that was ok, Daddy?). And then I had to stop. I rested for just a few minutes and then got up to write you. Leaving just a little time to pull on my clothes, feed the cats, and run off to baby sit.

Thank you so much, Daddy.
This was most delicious.
I love love love this toy!

But nowhere near as much as I love you.

Masturbation mania (9) - there's a rabbit in my bed! (the Marvel)

The cats wanted to kill it.
To them, it wasn't a rabbit.
To them, it was a fiercely buzzing bug.
To them, their duty was clear.

I only wish my fingers hadn't been covered with AstroGlide. I wanted nothing more than a picture of their faces and alert bodies as they stared towards the sound emerging from my pussy.

But to back up.

It's sex toy review time again in the oatmeal bowl. It took me quite some time to pick what I wanted to try next. I had 2 lists of items from my contact at EdenFantasys, and conducted serious and time-consuming research to find the best possible candidate. My goal is always to find something I'll really enjoy. Unfortunately, I have very demanding standards and expensive tastes, and the item I'd had in mind in my ongoing search for the perfect clitoral vibrator wasn't available for testing this month.

The good part of my research was that it pushed me to analyze what I want and what I need in a sex toy. One thing I realized was that I don't really like to shove anything very fat up my cunt. So I carefully compared the width of every insertable vibrator I was offered, based on the small circumference of my sweet lavender Meany (3-1/2" per the EdenFantasys website).

In the end, I chose the Marvel, a rabbit from Evolved Novelties (4-1/4").
My very first rabbit vibrator.
And a pretty basic rabbit at that.

Or so I gather from my research.
A mere 3 speeds.
No fancy patterns.
No complicated controls.
No beads bouncing around in its belly.
No cute little ears or butterflies on the clit-tickling end.

I had my concerns starting out. My material of choice is silicone. I like the texture, and I especially like that it is so hygienic that if I wash it well (which is easy) I don't have to use a condom. Just my trusty AstroGlide. (They really should send me a lifetime supply for all the promotion I give them!) But the Marvel is a jelly rabbit. (I can see it now... hopping around town at Easter time, leaving a delicate trail of jelly bean turds...) So out came the condoms again.


On the other hand, the Marvel is flexible. Bendable. And I had read enough rabbit reviews to realize that if manufacturers can't get clothing sizes right, it's even less likely they'll be able to design a vibrator that can simultaneously hit the clit while deeply inserted in every woman who uses it.

And on the third hand, the reviews I read claimed the Marvel was quiet. And as my regular readers know, I have this problem with vibrator noise.

Which brings us back to the cats.

The beasts were banished from my bedroom for a long time, due to continuing hostilities which kept me up at night and resulted in the occasional unwelcome deposit left by Ketzel as a sign of her displeasure. Recently, though, my furry darlings have demonstrated their superiority to the US Congress by deciding to coexist in a surprising state of relaxation, even cooperating in presenting their demands for prompt meal service. As a reward, they have been allowed back onto the Garden of Eden of my bed, where they had joined me for a nap.

I woke up horny, with thoughts of my Master and a sentimental song wandering through my mind - a perfect condition for running one last rabbit test before writing my review. The cats decided to stick around for the fun.

Given that the sadist controls my orgasms, any masturbation I indulge in is for him. He requires a report, of which the following is an excerpt:

They were both on the bed with me, Daddy, when I turned on the rabbit. It buzzes horribly, with a much rougher sound than anything except that first little lipstick vibe. Like a big bee in your ear. And as soon as I turned it on both cats were on the alert, staring at my pussy, looking as if they were considering an attack. I had to laugh!

Eventually, Ketzel jumped off the bed, leaving Marko to do battle alone. At that point, he decided the sound was coming from my foot. He moved slightly closer, raised his paw, and swatted in its direction. Now I was really cracking up. It's very hard to get your head into the right erotic place when a cat is eying your foot while wondering if it's predator or prey.

Which brings me back to the noise.
A very nasty buzz.
Maybe it's not that it's so loud.
Maybe it's just the quality of the sound.
Nasty.
Harsh.

So even though the Marvel itself is slender and flexible, I experienced it as something harsh. Which is particularly odd as its vibrations aren't even that strong. I didn't feel very much inside me. The bullet in the clit part was stronger, and that little nub of flesh more sensitive, so when I position it just right (which I did) the vibrations can be almost numbing. To get any real pleasure from the phallic part I had to fuck myself with it. It was very lovely for that, being long and slender, but I think I would have preferred something a little less pliable for that function.

My goal had been to think about being watched, objectified, returning to the lesson of Tuesday's visit. But the buzzing was too distracting and the stimulation not quite right. Still, it worked hard on my clit, and I came much faster than I meant to. It was only a partial orgasm, though, in that my body peaked but there wasn't the usual crying release. I let my clit rest briefly, allowing the numbness to subside, and then used my fingers and my imagination to finish the orgasm and release the tears. A few sobs later, I was done.

As with everything I review, I must add the caution that my comments are very personal and you must take into account your own body and preferences. I'm sure that most people aren't as fussy about noise as I am, unless it's a matter of eavesdropping housemates or a partner from whom you are hiding the fact that he or she isn't giving you everything you need. (And really, how can one person give you everything you need?) Maybe it's the ADD - the noise of this thing definitely interfered with my pleasure, and makes my other toys seem not so bad.

On the other hand, the Marvel is relatively inexpensive as such things go. And the packaging is great! A really neat metal box with a form-fitting plastic insert and metal clasps resembling those on a Mason jar. Perfect for storage and pleasing for its creativity.


In the end, I think I do better with simple, expensive silicone toys designed mainly for one thing. They end up doing more for me. But I am glad I finally got to try a rabbit.

And I'm grateful that the cats didn't take a swat at it while it was inside me!

Sex toys, bathrooms, and blow jobs

Well.
That sums it up.

I now have a purple rabbit.
One grey tabby,
one tortoiseshell tabby,
and one purple rabbit.

So yes.
There will be a review of the purple rabbit.
By next week for sure.

I also have a bathroom.
Actually, 2 bathrooms.
The second bathroom is the dungeon bathroom.
It gets rented out with the dungeon bedroom.
And it's horribly funky.
Well, it was horribly funky.
Now it's a pile of rubble.
In a week or so it will be beautiful.
But for now - chaos.

Which means I'll have a workman or two hanging around the house for the next number of days while the cats do their best to make themselves invisible. The sadist, however, will not be invisible. No way in hell. Workmen or know, he needs a blow job and he expects his little whore to deliver.

Which I will.
Tomorrow.

Hopefully, the guys will be making a lot of noise.

And I've been given special dispensation.
I can greet my Master at the door fully clothed.

Whew!

Masturbation mania (8) - Cumming with the Fun Factory LAYAspot

So here it is. Part 2 of my 2-for-the-price-of-1 sex toy review. Yesterday you got the somewhat dispassionate account of my exploration of Fun Factory's LAYAspot, a clitoral vibrator that is the latest donation to my growing collection of sensually stimulating devices courtesy of my [contact? handler? friend?] at EdenFantasys. OK, it wasn't at all dispassionate, nor was it completely positive. Then again, nothing is perfect.

This was a type of toy I specifically wanted to try. As I said yesterday, I'm a clitoral girl when it comes to cumming. So why keep shoving pseudo-dicks up my pussy when it's my clit that wants the lovin'? Especially as this style of clitoral vibrator seems perfectly designed to fit the female shape.


Following are a selection from the in-action e-mails I sent my Master as I masturbated with the LAYAspot. The test and report are my thank-you to EdenFantasys, my part of the deal for the pleasure and fun they are adding to my life. But my orgasms - my body - my brain - my pleasure - all belong to my Master. So I participate in this program with his permission - with the understanding that he will benefit from it.

Enough of the high-minded slave stuff.
It's true, you know.
But when I write it, it can sound kind of stuffy at times.

Here's the juicy stuff.
Straight from the front.
Or from the pussy.
As it were.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I am evoking you, my Master.
Seeing you.
Feeling you.
Giving myself to thoughts of you.

Hot Jazz Saturday Night is on the radio.
Not long ago, my Lord, he had on Let's Misbehave.

I feel your body pressing me into the bed.
I feel your fingers.
Touching me.
Fondling me.
Fucking me.
Raping me.

I'm starting to go someplace different, my Master.
To the edge of that slave place I'm starting to explore.
I feel different, my Master.
You opened the door...
I peek through.
I'm not sure what I see.
But I can't stay away.

So as your property, my Master, I will arouse myself.

It will all be for you.
How can it be anything else?
Because I belong to you, my Master.
For real.

I turn down the thermostat.
I have to, my Lord.
You make me hot.

I free my curls from the restraining combs.
My hair tumbles forward onto my cheeks.
I dig in the bag for the device and the AstroGlide.
I come across the spoon.

I strip, feeling your eyes on me.

I stand before the mirrored closet, turning this way and that, peering over my shoulder, trying to see what might be left of the marks from the perfect beating you gave me to bring me back to where I needed to be.

[ . . . ]

Last time, my Lord, I didn't think the vibrator would need lubricating, since this device doesn't go inside me. But perhaps it will feel more gentle with the AstroGlide.

I wish it didn't sound like the dentist's polishing device.

mmm... that's nice, my Master... little noises... do you hear your slave's little noises, my Master?

The "mmm..." came from touching myself with the moistened end of the device, but without turning it on. Now it feels very pleasurable. Gentle. Arousing.

Definitely arousing.

[ . . . ]

Now I will go back to touching myself with the device, and then slowly exploring the vibrations and patterns.

Watch me.
Watch me writhe.
Watch me let myself relax into the pleasure.
Watch me remind myself of your teaching.
Hear my little moans.
My little whimpers.
Watch my tits rise and fall.
Watch my belly shake with longing for you.
Watch my pussy redden and swell with longing for you.
See my legs spread.
I'll remember the flogger landing on my inner thighs.
I'll remember how I yielded to you,
how I didn't protect myself...
just the thought of my obedience is make me drip.

Time to return to the testing lab, my Master.

Wherever you are,
you will feel me.

I know you will.

I'm at the 4th level of vibrations, my Master, taking it slowly, relaxing into my pleasure.

Your pleasure.

Somewhere during my lengthy exploration of the third level, a flash of the dependable fantasy of being whipped kicked in. The vague fantasy that is nothing like the real thing. Until then, I had been doing nothing but giving myself to the sensations.

For the first 3 levels, I was moving it back and forth over my clit and pussy lips as if it were two fingers but vibrating. Then, as the 4th level settled in. I noticed that I had stopped moving the device and instead was rocking my pelvis back and forth on it.

Fucking you, my Master.
I was fucking you.

Do you feel my pussy, my Master?

Now I'm sitting up in bed, the computer on my lap, and the little vibrator tucked under my pussy, which it is designed for. Designed for you to be able to lie on it. Its name is LAYAspot, after all.

I have only 2 complaints.
Although rated the same as my others, it seems rather loud.
And the sound isn't damped by being inside me.
It is for external use only.
The noise impinges on my concentration.

The other negative, my Lord, is that being so small, the vibrations go through the whole thing and thus through my fingers. Which feels kind of weird. When I use that little insertable lavender one [the Meany], I don't think it buzzes my fingers as much.

Still, this is a very enjoyable item.

Time to continue to the next level, my Master.

Listen for my whimpers...

One thing about these lab experiments is that I end up with very long masturbation sessions. Which is good for me, my Master. It's as you have been teaching me - to give myself to the sensations.

The sensations.

I worked my way up through a few more vibration levels and then the first of three patterns kicked in. It's like this:

<

Vroom.
A strong, deliberate build-up.
And after about every other one I'd have this little involuntary...
jump?

Very intense, my Lord.
The second pattern is like that but buzzing faster so in a way it is gentler.
The third one is a series of pulses.
It's the first of the three that really has an effect.

Then I turned it off for a bit, and let my pussy recover some. The problem with keeping a vibrator going externally like that is it tends to numb the area. The little Meany is the only one that hasn't been as much of a problem that way. I think perhaps because the tip is so soft. Remember I showed that to you, my Lord? Squooshy. Like a real penis. Rather cute.

I tried fondling myself with my fingers for a little, but by then I was too desensitized for anything but the device, so I turned it back on at one of the regular vibration settings. And let my mind go back to where it had been about 5 minutes before.

Being watched.

You took me somewhere, my Master.

You took me to someone else's place, where there were a number of men and they were watching me. They were standing over me and watching me touching myself and my face reflected everything that I was feeling but only you could really read it all. And having so many there (maybe 5, my Lord?) took me beyond feeling exhibitionist and made me feel completely objectified. And... I wasn't constructing the scene, my Master. It created itself in my mind.

They made comments.
They threw words at me and around me.
They were demeaning.
They called me bitch.

And then one of them asked you something, my Lord. I'm not sure what. I couldn't really hear. And you replied: "Of course she will. She's my slave."

And then there was another little shift in me - me now, me masturbating now, not in the fantasy - and I was... it did something... it put me in another place... and I was very aroused...

And eventually I came, my Lord.
I definitely came, although my pussy was kind of numb.

And then I cried and cried, my Lord, although it was a very weird cry. Not my usually heavy sobs, although it was certainly intense. It was a rather higher wailing... I've never done that before.

Anyway, my Master, there it is.
For you.
I wonder if you felt any of it?
Even if you didn't read the messages as they came in.

I wish you really had been here watching, my Master...

But you were.
Somehow or other you were.

I felt you.

It all belonged to you.
As do I.

Sex toy photo shoot

I really thought I'd be posting a sex toy review today.
I really did.


I got the thing last month and finished my testing early this month and then there was this and that and I wasn't getting it written and circumstances weren't right for trying it out on the sadist which I really wanted to do and I finally started writing it late last night and was going to finish at least the first of the 2 posts today and then my sister called and an hour and a half later my ear is hot and sore and I've got no more written.

And Saturday I head out to the undisclosable location in which I will spend the night with my Master back in the room with white linens.

Well, maybe not the same room with white linens. but close enough.

So I still have much to do to prepare.
Laundry to do.
Though I probably don't really need to.
No underwear allowed once I check into the room.
But things to pack.
A poem to memorize.
The tank to fill with gas,
The cats to snuggle.
All that sort of thing.


Not to mention getting into and maintaining the right state of mind. That is very, very important. We even discussed the music I should listen to during the various stages of the trip.

I need to remain calm.
Quiet.
Centered.
Peaceful.
No heavy emotions.
Yeah, well, we know how that goes.
Even if there's no big thing,
we're both so intense,
our relationship is so intense,
it will all be underneath everything anyway.
But no big show of emotions.

I can do that.

I can!

Well, sometimes...


I will.
I'll show him how good I can be.
His poet.
His pet.
His courtesan.
His Geisha.
His slave.

His favorite.

And meanwhile, you get this sampling from the little photo shoot I did with my new friend. She was ever so cooperative...

Taking care of my Master's property. Meaning me.

We're on a diet.
We're all on a diet.
Including the cats.
If only I could find a kitty health club for them!

I get blood tests twice a year. I'm on all sorts of medication, so need blood tests twice a year to be sure my kidney isn't crapping out. Turns out I have the kidneys of a horse, or so one doctor said, but you still have to check. And then there's all that other stuff. Like my thyroid level due to the little bit of lithium I take, and the high cholesterol I inherited from my mom, and the tendency to diabetes I got from my dad.

I got the worst they each had to offer.
Though I did get my mom's red hair.
And her amazing nipples.
She still has amazing nipples at age 90.

She would thoroughly plotz if she knew what my Master likes to do with that hair and those nipples I inherited from her. Hell, can you imagine her reaction if she knew I had a Master? A dangerously sadistic Master who is my only protection against his own urges?

Yum.
I admit that I'm enjoying the idea...

Blood tests.
Back to the blood tests.

I had the full report sent directly to me as well as to my stable of doctors. There were some things that concerned me and then my master, so I trotted off to my family doctor who happens to be, conveniently, a geriatrician as well, having already discussed the report by e-mail with my brilliant psychopharmacologist.

(FYI - geriatricians are trained have a particularly holistic approach to medicine, and make less money because they spend more time with their patients.)

The things that seemed like new problems aren't really and, while the numbers were high, they're better than last year. As I suspected, my thyroid numbers were high which means my thyroid is underperforming which, to my relief, explains why I've been feeling so sluggish and is easily corrected.

My cholesterol levels are surprisingly good.
Hooray!
Happy pet.

But.
The diabetes thing...
Having looked a little better last fall,
it looks a little worse now,
and if I don't get it under control
it's medication for me.
Not to mention that diabetes is a BAD thing to have.

So it's serious diet time.

BUT!!
Happy day!
My Master is taking a interest.
I am his property
and he expects his property to be kept in good working order.

I've really been wishing he would take control of my diet.
Because clearly I can't do it for myself.

It's not like he's going to monitor what I do every day. But he expects me to make a plan, and to keep to it. I am to have a healthy diet plan, and I'm to exercise, and I'm to lose weight, and I'm to get my blood sugar levels down.

I'm to exercise.
Including some very specific exercises.
Exercises meant to accentuate the ravine running down my back.
The trough from which he can drink champagne
in a little over 3 weeks
when we once again
spend the night
in a room with white linens.

As for my tubby tabby cats,
I'm stuck dealing with them myself.

Forced masturbation; the torture of pleasure (1)

A slightly edited transcript of an activity still in progress.

I want you to stay in contact with my pussy today. If you read this before you get out of bed, play with it a little, just to awaken it. Make a schedule and send it to me. Just a few minutes every couple of hours. Then, throughout the day touch and stimulate. Use devices if you like. You will not be able to float as I have been instructing you, letting whatever happens happen, because you may not cum, so you must remain a bit vigilant. Today you are my sex slave, preparing for your Master. Behave in that mode.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Good morning, my Lord.

I woke up, sort of, slowly, feeling you near, feeling us in a hotel room, not wanting to wake up, not wanting to leave that feeling of being with you... I crawled into your bed... I snuggled up to you... our bodies were soft and open and melding and wanting... comfortable... happy...

I am pussy, my Lord.
I am yours.
I will do and be as you desire.
All day...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Every 2 hours, my Lord.

12:30
2:30
4:30
6:30
8:30

and 10:30 as we are watching The Borgias, my Lord.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I couldn't help laughing, my Lord, as I made the entries in my Google calendar. Just think! Every 2 hours, with a 5 minute warning:

Touch pussy.

Think of the reaction of anyone who saw it!

"Hi, mom. How has your week been? Anything new?"

"Nothing new. We're OK. And what have you been doing, hon?"

"Touching myself every 2 hours, mom. You know how you caught me touching myself when I was a very, very little girl? And told me not to? Just like that. Every 2 hours. Cause I'm a sex slave, mom. Isn't that nice?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I'm still making little whimpering noises...

I started a few minutes late, my Lord, as I had to go to the bathroom. Then I came into the bedroom and, rather than stripping, pushed back the blanket and top sheet, lay down on the bed and pushed my jeans and panties down to my ankles. I selected the little purple Meany mini-vibe and held it lightly to my clitoris while it buzzed at the lowest setting.

Oh, my Lord...

I felt restrained, because of the jeans and panties around my ankles and because you were watching me and because I knew I wasn't allowed to cum... and oh... and then I called out your name. It just came out like this...

Daddy... *

and then I started whimpering and then I said aloud "ohhh... it's so good..." and the light vibrations were just perfect and I felt you watching me, my Lord, and I whimpered and it felt like torture... sweet pleasurable painful torture... and my womb is contracting and it hurts and feels so good and you are very cruel and I will feel like this all day and now aren't you very aroused and I will torture you today as you are torturing me, my Lord...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I am quite pleased, my pet.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thank you, my Lord.
That is my job.
To please you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Such sweet suffering, my Lord.

As I prepared to stop, I wondered which would be worse: to stop or to go on and and on?

I imagined being forced to continue for an hour, for two, for more, with never a hope of release.

I used the little Meany again, my cruel Master, as it was so successful last time. Again I slipped into the bed with my jeans and plain white cotton panties pushed down to my ankles. This time I pulled up the blanket, restraining myself even more. I had a flash image of being inside some perverted MRI machine, surrounded by technology and clean hard surfaces, required to hold perfectly still as I was subjected to assorted sexual stimuli.

The little vibrator removes the personal element. I don't feel my fingers on swelling tissues. Some foreign body is bombarding me with vibrations. I submit, my Lord, and moan, and whimper, and contract, and wrestle with the need to go higher.

I obey, my Lord.
No cumming for your pet.
The pleasure of my pleasure is yours alone.

(Do you watch the clock, my Lord? Is my schedule now on your schedule? Every two hours, does your cock swell with my clit as I suffer for you? Do you hear my whimpers, my Lord? Do you want me?)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I hear you, my pet.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

[she smiles, wriggles, and flows]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You found a good way to combat my silence**, my Lord.
As well as to provide structure to a floaty day.

Not to mention amusement for yourself, my Lord.
Distraction.
Diversion.
Arousal.

The girl cat is moaning in her sleep. Perhaps she is dreaming of being petted.

Right this moment.
Now.
I feel you touching me...


to be continued...

* since our last series of meltdowns, I am currently not allowed to address him as Daddy.

** my current course of progesterone has made me uncharacteristically quiet, partly as a response to the medication and partly a precaution to avoid saying things while under its influence that my Master would find "crazy making." He appreciates the caution but is unnerved by the silence.